Love Is.....

My nemesis.

It has been for a very long time.

I want to be loved...in theory. I mean I was designed to be loved. We all were. But, I don't want to be loved up close and personal.

I remember when I was in 1st grade and I told my teacher that when I got married that my husband was either going to have to have his own room or his own house. And well, I still kinda feel that way.

Maybe this stems from the dysfunction I had witnessed and subconsciously I just felt that it was better to love a person from a far...or have them love me from a distance. Maybe this is why I do so well with long distant relationships.

So, my last post most have struck a nerve with CQP because not only did Mr. Man change my homework but he came up with a semi-complex, multi-part question. And since I was gonna blog around this topic anyway, I will try and give him at least one of his answers. (lol)

What is love? I mean does anyone even know? I mean it has been used so much and by so many. I mean does Rihanna love Chris Brown? And he her? I mean they say love does not hurt...but by the looks of RiRi's face and the plummet of Breezy's record sales, we know this is not always the case.

I mean the world wants to stand up and say Chris didn't love her and vice versa...but what about my father? He beat my mother, and she him. Did they or do they love each other? And what about the man that cheats on his wife? Does Shaq love his wife? Or dare I even ask about Tiger? What about all the people shacking up too scared, too whatever to make it official...do they really love each other if they secretly waiting for something or someone better?

They say Love never fails...so why do people get divorce, why do people walk away, why do so many people mistreat the one they claim they love?

Actions Speaks Louder than words for me, so you can say you love me, say you love me and even put it in a love song, BUT if your actions are telling me something different then that's what I am going to go with.

For me, love is simple even though I make it so complex. It's really about the little things, cuz anyone can get the big things right. It's about stepping in and picking up the pieces without me saying a word. It's a warm embrace when you know I've been out fighting against the world. It's you caring even after I tell you to stop. It's you remembering that if I ask, then I must need, and you doing it without any questions or any fuss. It's you respecting me enough never to diss me in public or behind my back. It's you supporting me when I am right and when I am wrong. It's you telling me and showing me that I am wrong when I believe that I am right. It's you standing beside me long after the crowds have left. It's you holding my hand when I am scared. It's you accepting me and all my flaws. It is you being a true blue fair weather friend. It's you pushing me when I am starting to slow and you throwing me on your back when I refuse to go another step. It's being there for the good, the bad, the ugly and all that falls inbetween. It is being real when all others are being fake. It's taking my 3 am phone calls without hesitating. It's listening to the same story and watching me go through the same madness until I am ready to move on. It's protecting me even when you know I don't need it. It's knowing that I am not perfect and not expecting me to be even when I try to be.

As quiet as it is kept, I love a lot of people. But, I don't let a lot of people love me.

Why?

Because I hate being disappointed. I hate being let down. I hate turning around in the rough times and finding that the only people that I can truly count on is me, myself and I. I hate finding out that people that I care and love and who I would do anything for are telling people that my child is an embarrassment because of how he was conceived. I hate finding out that people who appear to be concerned about what I am going through is secretly cheering for my demise. I hate giving my all to people who are just going to leave, or worse don't appreciate what I am giving. So instead of going through all the motions and EMOTIONS (hi CQP) to come up empty handed or with a broken heart, I just do without...(not really cuz I still allow the Faithful10, my ICE, and a couple others love me).

It's not that I think that I think my love is perfect or that others' love is flawed.... it's just that I know me. I know what I have to offer and why I offer it. I feel others' pain...it keeps me up nights tossing and turning. I hear what isn't said...I see what is needed and supply it...I see under the surface because I look with my heart and not my eyes. I have been this way since little. But I have been unloved since I was little.

Why would I expect anyone to love me when my parents didn't love me? When my grandmother didn't love me? When my aunt didn't love me? Why would I expect anyone to show me love(unconditional) when the very people who were supposed to nurture me, support me, protect me and love regardless of what I did, did not?

I remember when my father stopped loving me, it was when my uncle found me on my Grandma's porch (not my grandmother) with a couple, okay about ten of my classmates, both girls and boys, doing show and tale with our "privates." I remember all the names he called me...I was in 1st grade.

I don't think my mother ever loved me. She didn't even love herself. I think I reminded her too much of my father for her to try. I don't think she got over losing her father and being hated by her mother, my grandmother. I think she was too busy protecting my brother from my father. I think life just got in the way for her to realize that one day she was going to look up and it was going to be a little too late to start loving me. I attempted to stab my mother when I was 7. I choked her out when I was 11. I stopped talking to her when I was 18.

So I went through life sorting, sifting, searching, defining, redefining, and giving love but when it was presented to me, it scared me so I ran. Not like I ran and hid behind the garbage cans in the alley so that boy couldn't kiss me. Or hid under that car. But I ran nevertheless, which brought me here.

In the words of Indie ( I heart her so) I am ready for love. At least, my mind and body is...I am not too sure about my heart.

" We know that physical wounds heal with time because we see them... emotional wounds often run deep and stay open because we can't see them to give them the care and attention they need. I have been damaged but I am not damaged goods."

Gotta Luv Moi, Cuz I Surely Do (Smooches)